The Hundredth Chance

by Ethel M. Dell

  CHAPTER V

  REBELLION

  That letter from Saltash, written in French, contained the announcementof his approaching return. It was at her urgent written request that hehad gone three months before. Somehow the very thought of him at theCastle had been intolerable after what had passed between them on theday of her return to her husband. But they had corresponded ever since.She could not refuse to receive and answer his letters. Her intimacywith Charlie was like a gem with many facets. He had an adroit fashionof flashing it before her hither and thither till, dazzled, she wonderedif she had ever truly grasped its full value. Sometimes it seemed to herthat it had been cut from the very bedrock of friendship, and at suchtimes the realization of the sympathy that ever pulsed between them wasa pure joy to her. At other times, remembering the strange impulses ofthe man, his sudden gusts of passion, swift misgiving would assail herand she would tell herself that she was making a terrible mistake. Andthen again she would catch a glimpse of his careless, butterflytemperament, and her doubts would vanish almost in spite of her. Howcould she take him seriously? His gay inconsequence made the harenotion seem ridiculous. They were pals, no more. True, he had offeredto help her; but, knowing him through and through as she did, he was thelast man in the world to whom she would really turn for help. And sinceshe was so sure of herself, what had she to fear? Charlie was before allthings a gentleman. There was nothing coarse or brutal about him. Inhis own words, where women were concerned, he did not take; he offered.For that very reason he was the harder to resist.

  But she knew him to be safe. That was the foundation of her confidence.She had no fear of him; he had always set her at her ease. Withoutvirtue he might be, yet was he not without a certain code of honour. Hetempted; therein lay the subtle attraction of the man; but he nevercompelled. He was selfish; oh yes, he was selfish, but he was alsostrangely, whimsically kind at heart. In all her experience of him, shehad never found him merciless.

  And so she did not see why she should wholly deny herself the friendshipwhich seemed to her to be the only good thing left in her life now. Shehad not wanted to see him, but now that he wrote to announce his returnshe found that she was glad. The first meeting with him might be alittle difficult, but Charlie always knew how to deal with difficulties.He understood her; it would not be really hard. They would be friendsagain--just friends.

  She slipped the letter away with a smile. He always allowed himself alittle more latitude when he wrote in French. It was but natural. Itmeant nothing, she knew. How could anyone take him really seriously?His soul was as elusive as thistledown. It was only in the realms ofmusic that she ever really saw his soul.

  He did not say on what day he would return. She wondered if Jake knew,wondered if she could induce Bunny to ask him without betraying anyinterest in the subject herself. She was a little afraid of Bunny. Hisshrewdness embarrassed her. It was like a microscope, discoveringthings that otherwise would have escaped notice. She did not want tocome under that microscope very often. There were some parts of herexistence that would not bear it. She suspected that Bunny was alreadybeginning to find out. She was sure that he was aware of a lack ofsympathy between herself and Jake, and she wished she could have kept itfrom him.

  With regard to her mother's affairs also, she would have been glad ifthe boy had not been drawn into the discussion. It was characteristic ofMrs. Sheppard to fling her burden upon the first shoulder that offered,but Maud was fashioned otherwise, and she wanted Bunny to throw off hisprecocities and become like other boys. The thought of his educationwas beginning to weigh upon her. She wanted to talk about it to Jake,but somehow she did not know how to broach the subject. She wondered ifshe should write to Uncle Edward, but hesitated to do so. Letters werenever satisfactory.

  She was pondering this matter as she undressed that night when a suddenthought struck her--a thought that darted through her like a flash,leaving a shining trail of possibilities behind. Why should they notaccept the old man's invitation and go to him for a little while? Hewould be glad to see them, she was sure; and she would be glad--oh,unspeakably glad--to get away for a time. Face to face with him, shemight even plead for her mother. She would infinitely rather be under anobligation to him than to Charlie.

  The idea drew her more and more. She wondered it had not occurred toher before. In the end, finding it still early, she sat down at thetable and began to scribble a hasty note. She determined that she wouldnot tell Jake until Uncle Edward's reply reached her. She feltconvinced that it would contain the invitation she was soliciting.

  Feverishly she penned her appeal. Would he invite them to spend a fewdays? Bunny was well, or nearly so; she herself was feeling the heat,and would like a change. Jake--, no, she found she could not mentionJake. With trembling fingers she brought the note to an end.

  She had scarcely finished addressing the envelope when she heard Jake'sstep on the stairs. Startled, she caught up letter and writing-case,and pushed them into a drawer. He seldom retired late, but she had notexpected him so early as this. Swiftly she turned, shut the door thatled into his room, blew out her lamp and slipped into bed.

  But he did not pass on to his own room. He stopped at the door of hers,paused a second, then quietly opened it. She heard the creak of hisgaiters as he entered. He had a candle in one hand; he put up the otherto shield it from the draught, and the door blew gently to behind him.

  Maud leaned against her pillow and watched him. Her heart was beatingvery fast. She wondered if he had heard her hasty movements of the pastfew moments.

  He came to her side and set down his candle. "Say, Maud," he said, "Isaw your light go out, so I guessed you weren't asleep."

  Maud's eyes, blue-black and sombre, looked up to his. "What do youwant?" she asked him coldly.

  He stood squarely beside her. "I wanted just to speak to you," he said,"and I thought if I waited to undress, maybe you'd be asleep."

  With the words he sat down rather heavily in the chair by her side, andthere fell a silence, a dragging, difficult silence. Maud's heart wasbeating very fast. Had he come to talk about that letter from Saltash?Was he about to make a scene?

  His stillness began to act upon her nerves. She turned towards himrestlessly. "Oh, what is it?" she said, veiling her doubt with a showof impatience.

  He stretched out a strong hand and took one of hers. "It's you, mygirl," he said, and in his voice was a note of anxiety that partlyreassured her. "You've not been yourself lately. Guess there'ssomething the matter."

  "There is nothing the matter," she said hastily.

  He held her hand closely. "You've no call to be afraid of me," he saidgently. "Maybe, I've been rough and rude at times. I've never meantit, my princess. I can't live up to you always; but I try,--God knows Itry!"

  A sudden tremor sounded in his voice; he became abruptly silent.

  Maud's hand was hard clenched in his. She did not look at him; but thebeating of her heart rose up between them--a hard, insistent drummingthat she was powerless to control.

  After a brief space he spoke again, his voice quite steady andcontrolled. "Reckon you're not happy. Reckon you're not well either.I've been thinking maybe you'd like to go away for a spell--you and theboy. If so, I'm willing to manage it. It'll be a bit of a rest foryou."

  He paused. The clenched hand he held had made a sharp, convulsivemovement as if at a sudden twinge of pain. Maud lay breathing rapidly,her eyes fixed upon the flame of the candle.

  He waited a few moments; then, "What do you think of the proposition, mygirl?" he asked.

  She turned her head slowly towards him. "Bunny and I alone?" she said.

  "That's the idea," said Jake.

  Her eyes met his resolutely, with a certain challenging directness. "Asa matter of fact, I had thought myself that we might go to Uncle Edwardfor a little," she said.

  He showed no surprise. "You would
like that?" he asked.

  "Yes." She spoke with instant decision.

  "Then go!" said Jake. He set her hand free with the words, but heremained seated as if he had something further on his mind. "By theway," he said, after a moment, "I had a letter this evening."

  She started. "A letter?"

  "Yes." Very deliberately he answered her. "I met the postman and tookit from him at the door."

  "Ah!" It was scarcely more than a whisper. She shrank against herpillow with a gesture wholly involuntary.

  Jake's eyes were upon her, alert, unswerving, dominating. "My lettercame from Capper," he said quietly. "He is coming to us in a few days;he wants to see Bunny again before he leaves England."

  "Oh, surely we needn't wait for him!" With a sudden rush the wordscame; she spoke with feverish vehemence. "If we really are going away,let us go soon!" she urged. "Why should we wait?"

  "I thought maybe you'd like to say 'Thank you' to Capper before hegoes," said Jake.

  "But I needn't see him for that," she said, in growing agitation. "I'llwrite."

  Jake was silent.

  "He will very likely sail from Liverpool," she went on. "Be could comeand see Bunny there."

  Jake bent towards her. "Say, Maud," he said in his soft slow way,"don't be upset any. If you're not wanting to meet Capper, it's all oneto me. But, my girl, there ain't anything he could tell me about youthat I don't know already."

  Her face flamed scarlet. For the moment she was furious with anindignation that burned intolerably. Her very soul felt on fire. Itwas more than she could bear.

  "Oh, go away!" she cried out fiercely. "Go, I say! Go! You make mehate you more and more every day--every night!" He rose on the instant.For a few quivering moments she thought she had roused him to anger, forhis eyes glowed in the dimness like a slow-burning fire. And then inutter silence he turned away. He went into his own room, and softlyclosed the door.